Party on Wheels
by 3rdgal
Summary: Written for sick!Wilson fest round 5. "I warned you not to go from desk jockey to avid athlete so quickly." House/Wilson friendship.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own them. *sniff***  
Beta: **The wonderful rslworks!

**A/N:** Written for sick!Wilson fest round 5. Birthday prompt 3. With another birthday just around the corner to remind him that he's not getting any younger, Wilson decides to start taking better care of himself and getting more exercise, and promptly suffers from some kind of weekend warrior injury when he overdoes it. Bonus points if Wilson has to spend his birthday in the hospital.

"Wakey, wakey, Wilson."

Said man held absolutely still, certain if he refrained from moving then the owner of the sing-song voice would magically disappear.

"I know you're awake," House lilted. "Open your eyes and face me like a man."

Wilson continued doing his best statue impression. Suddenly there was a sharp pain in his hip. "Ow!"

"Ha!" House yelled, brandishing his cane triumphantly. "I win!"

Wilson opened his eyes and leveled his best glare in House's direction.

"That look would be a lot more intimidating if the drugs you're on didn't make your lazy eye quite so… lazy."

The oncologist cocked his head and rolled his eyes. "Did you come here just to disturb my sleep?"

"You should have seen all the nurses huddled over your bed when I got here awhile ago. It's not going to do you any harm to miss a little beauty sleep."

Wilson raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Jealous much?"

"Klutz much?"

"That's low."

"Prove me wrong," House dared him. "Explain to me how you managed to break your arm while playing tennis. A compound fracture, no less."

"Then you'll leave me alone?"

"Sure," House nodded solemnly. "Cross my fingers, hope to lie…"

"I'd like to stick a needle in _your_ eye," Wilson muttered grumpily.

"Come on, spill. If you can't open up to your best bud…"

"Fine." Wilson shifted so that his head was resting further up on the pillow and raised the head of his bed until he was sitting up. "You know how my ankle's been bothering me the past few weeks?"

"I warned you not to go from desk jockey to avid athlete so quickly."

"Running three times a week and playing tennis on the weekends isn't avid."

"Remind me to get you a dictionary for your next birthday, my little weekend warrior."

"You want to hear this or not?"

"So you're nursing a bad ankle…"

"The guy I'm playing hits the ball off-center and it floats over the net; the perfect time for a good kill shot. I ran up to get in position and my right ankle rolled. I must have tried to break my fall with my arm."

"And broke your arm with your fall." House just managed to hold back a smile, but he couldn't stop the twinkle from reaching his eyes.

"I'm glad my pain is so amusing to you."

House laughed out loud and shrugged. "It's not your pain, I find funny. It's your sheer lack of coordination. I'm going to submit your picture to go along with the definition of klutz in the dictionary."

Wilson covered his face with his hand and shook his head. "Why do I even bother?"

"Seriously, Wilson," House spoke, all joy leaving his voice. "You really need to cut back on your activity or at least slow down until your body gets used to it again. You're lucky you only wound up with a sprained ankle and broken arm."

"Lucky?"

"You play on _concrete_," House explained in the tone he used for his idiotic patients. "Any idea what could have happened if your head had bounced off the ground when you fell?"

Wilson developed a sudden fascination with his hospital blanket as he avoided House's scrutinizing gaze. He jumped when a gentle hand covered his.

"Getting older is a bitch, Jimmy, but it's part of life. I know you were quite the tennis star at McGill, but you can't push yourself like you're still a college kid, okay?"

"I know," Wilson sighed. "I just… My fortieth birthday is tomorrow and I wanted to _not_ feel like some washed up, middle-aged man."

"I know the feeling," House sympathized. "I've been there."

"I remember," Wilson chuckled. "I loaned you the five grand."

"Ah, yes," House beamed. "My wonderful two-wheeled death trap. Maybe you could get your own and we could fend off middle age together?"

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass."

House's beeper went off and he glanced at the screen. "Damn." He glanced at Wilson and frowned. "I've got an annoying patient I have to go deal with."

Wilson cocked an eyebrow.

"Okay, I've got to go make my team deal with him, but it's not as much fun if I'm not there to watch them obey my every command. I'll come back later tonight."

"Don't worry about it," Wilson mumbled around a yawn. "I'm really tired so I'll probably be asleep anyway."

"Okay, but I'll be here bright and early in the morning, birthday boy."

"See you then." Wilson waved good-bye to his friend and sunk into the mattress. As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but think that this year's birthday was going to be the worst he'd ever had.

"Happy birthday to yooooouuuu!"

Wilson dragged his eyes open and squinted at the clock on the opposite wall.

"Happy birthday to yooooouuuu!"

He blinked his eyes and shook his head, certain he was either dreaming or feverish because there was no way House was _willingly_ at the hospital at eight in the morning.

"Happy birthday my dear porn staaaaaaar!"

Or maybe he'd died and gone to hell.

"Happy birthday to yooooouuuu!"

He finally looked at House, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw House pushing a lunch cart that had obviously been commandeered from the cafeteria. "What is all that?" He gestured at the large cardboard box surrounded by brightly wrapped presents and a plastic bag.

"Party on Wheels," House announced. "Although I'm afraid Meals on Wheels may sue me if I try to trademark the name." He picked up a child's party hat and waved it at his friend. "They were all out of _Transformers_ so _My Little Pony_ will have to do."

"I am _not_ wearing that."

House ignored him, plopping it on Wilson's head and pulling the elastic band under his chin until it snapped in place.

"Ow!" Wilson growled. "You've never heard of bedside manner, have you?"

"Nope." House lifted the big box and set it on Wilson's bedside tray. He raised the cover with a flourish, revealing a grinning Thomas the Tank Engine. 'Happy Birthday Jimmy' was written in bright blue icing along the top of the cake.

The oncologist glanced at his friend as if he'd lost his mind. "House, you shouldn't have."

"I'd light birthday candles but I'm pretty sure open flame is frowned upon in hospitals." House grabbed one of the presents and handed it to Wilson, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Open it!"

"This had better not be a can of snakes," Wilson threatened, removing the _SpongeBob Squarepants _gift wrap and opening the box as cautiously as a bomb squad member opening a suspicious package. He laughed out loud as he discovered what was inside. "A remote controlled motorcycle?"

"Your own, safer version of a two-wheeled death trap."

"I love it," Wilson said sincerely.

"Next," House said as he thrust another brightly wrapped package into Wilson's hands.

He tore into this present with reckless abandon, eager to see what else House had come up with as a present. He found himself laughing again, as he pulled out a shiny gold trophy engraved with the words, 'For The World's Most Not Washed Up Oncologist'.

"I had better see that proudly displayed the next time I go into your office and play with your stuff."

"On my bookshelf," Wilson nodded. "My word of honor."

"Good. Last present," House told him, handing him what appeared to be a very large book wrapped in _Dora the Explorer_ gift wrap.

"A dictionary," Wilson snorted as he tore off the paper.

"I've highlighted a few words for you," House informed him. "Avid, klutz, erectile dysfunction…"

"Ass? Twerp?"

"I skimmed over those." House pulled a knife out of the plastic bag and sliced off a large piece of cake, making sure to waft it under Wilson's nose as he sat next to the bed.

"Hey, where's mine?" Wilson whined.

"Technically you're still a patient and therefore still on a hospital diet," House remarked. "When you get discharged this afternoon you can have a piece." House closed his eyes and hummed with delight as he savored a bite of cake. "Assuming there's any left."

Wilson glared at him and swiped his finger across Thomas' face, savoring the rich, heavenly buttercream icing on his tongue.

All in all, one of the best birthdays he'd ever had.

~end~


End file.
